celebrating sapiosexuality with a hint of film noir

 

You have to love Sarah not only for her elegant sense of aesthetics but also for the education you get from her. I learnt what 'sapiosexuality' is-- getting turned on by intelligence-- and finally felt at home knowing what I am. So I decided that Valentine's Day will be the day of celebrating sapiosexuality because up until things started kicking off with D, I always thought it was gimmicky and a grrrrrreat day to profit by selling goodies. Then came the day when my mother called me up whilst I was busy processing animal adoptions, telling me some anonymous bouquet of flowers with a cryptic alliterated message had shown up, and I knew it was D, because he was the only one I gave my address to (besides forms and gurlfriends). And who else would send such embedded messages.  Funny how things can take a different twist when you finally meet Your Match, whether in terms of cheekiness, Talking The Hind Legs Off A Donkey, speed, greed and way more. Then by a bout of cognitive dissonance or Übermensch-ism*, I decided that I would celebrate it for our own special meaning**, an excuse to perhaps receive presents***, a reason to dress up, and of course, an occasion for f-o-o-d. Oh, the joys of utter gluttony! And also because I can't be an ingrate, right? This year, we were dead busy rushing deadlines but he mentioned dinner, albeit a late one because he had tai chi classes and I wasn't even sure if I could make it for dinner, sitting away at my Mac firing my fingers and neurons away. Eventually, I finished at 830pm (time of his class), managed to convince the restauranteur to keep the table for 1015pm, and had exactly forty-five minutes to take an attenuated version of a Holy Bath**** and dress up. . .

* Nietzsche's Overman who destroys socially-constructed, taken-for-granted meanings, splices them, lives them, thinks them through and with a great force of conviction, creates his own meanings. A bit like Max Weber's impassioned "Here I stand, I can do no more".

**kinda like how Christmas means family and warmth rather than blind festivities which obscure religious syncretism borrowing from Horus' birthday, for starters.

***because I still find it strange accepting presents

****what my friend Lulu christens my long baths as

 

One amazing thing about D is how he always indulges my requests for 'take photos of my shoes!' :) Even if I have gorgeous shoes (if I say so myself lol), it takes guts to be taking them in public. Either that or he's given up on me. .

I had set the camera mode wrongly ('night portrait' doesn't like me!) and so the photographs turned out strange. Nevertheless, playing with extreme contrast and making them black-and-white imparted some kind of Film Noir feel, which I love. . 

It is always with a mix of excitement, trepidation and flow as I happily kneel in front of my dresser mirror and rediscover what I have, dressing up spontaneously whilst wondering how the experiment will turn out. This time, I had brought my paper butterflies from Singapore, purchased from the Kids' Section, and decided to wear both in my hair. Bunned hair, simple mascara and red lips, rather than my flamboyant feather eyelashes because I wanted to go as P (if there is such a thing). I'm not sure if I've shown this stunning heavy wool vintage coat before, but it is a total beauty. Never in my wildest dreams would I think of full-length coats, imagining them to be frumpy (me eating my words again. Yum!) but this one flares out from a slight nip at the waist, dancing as I walk. Plus it keeps one most warm too. The classic cut and the fact that it fits like a glove makes me feel so lucky to own it. I'd also refrained from wearing those printed tights (from the same range as my snakeskin one here) because I always assumed the pattern would be hidden. Imagine my surprise when I finally wore them with the red pumps I am only too addicted to-- partly because you can wear those pumps and walk for hours in them despite the 5-inch heel. I'm also learning how much I love long-strapped handbags-- the sort that my mother always uses, that I used to think was a little old-fashioned as 'my time' was one where straps became short and bags were to be tucked under your armptis. In this overall look, I feel a little like Dita von Teese sashaying down the streets. Such are my delusions of grandeur ;)

 

 Us both looking slightly menacing in all-black. .

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And now, the part I know you all love ;) FOOD! I am such a Singaporean at heart, always talking about food. We greet each other with, "Have you eaten?" instead of "how are you". (Unless you are anorexic/dieting/missing out on life's pleasures). . .

Going through my wardrobe, I decided on this red halter-neck dress with happy flower prints. I know, I know, it's a little crazy to wear a halter-dress in the middle of winter, what more in chilly Brighton, but all's warm with the coat. I also wore a snake cuff (seen better here), one of my two 'snakes'. Snakes are such elegant creatures (I love them!) and represent wisdom and protection (e.g. in Greek mythology or Buddhist scripture), or even temptation (in the Abrahamic faiths) which gives another layer of charm and mystique to their invertebral elegance as they slither and hiss. Otherwise, consider me some kind of taxidermist with a twist, adorning myself with animal-inspired pieces. .

Mango dress; vintage wool coat; vintage snake cuff; Accessorize butterfly clips; vintage Elle tattooed stockings; Dolce & Gabanna pumps; Chanel handbag; Diva ring

We dined at Sahara, a North African/Moroccan/Arabic restaurant, with very reasonable prices. These were spicy potatoes and vine leaves starters. D was teasing me "I love to eat vegetables" when I asked him why he didn't order a meat starter, as usual in response to his horror that I don't buy vegetables. I told my mother (who eats veg with the fervour of a rabbit) that D strategises 'cooking vegetables in ways to make you eat them' and she sounded very happy. And he sounded even happier to know that she was happy about it.

Mains for myself was an awesome spiced rice with herby lamb and him, a mixed kebab. "Why didn't you order the mixed kebab?"/"I knew you would order it". And cardamon tea is so amazing, I had to risk being thought of as madder than I already am mixing cardamon tea with shiraz.

No matter how full you might be, there is always the Dessert Compartment. That is one lesson D has learned (or is still learning). I had a moist apple and cinnamon cake and he, the most amazing banoffee pie I've ever tasted, made with quality toffee and short, tropical bananas (i.e. my favourite type of bananas). Whilst we spent dinner laughing, camwhoring, and launching into all sorts of strange debates, it's amazing how time flies by when you're having a good time. I ordered another round of banoffee pie, and the head waiter thought I was joking at first. And then, by the time I ordered the fourth round, he was absolutely stunned but indulged us with a super-large portion. . . We walked home in the cold and stumbled into the door looking like two pregnant people with big bellies, which haven't subsided even though it's Friday morning at present.

 

 

Right now The Lair is undergoing some transformation of sorts-- not because I'm too free to keep redoing it. . but expect more photographs and the story soon! It's starting to look like some Grotto of an eccentric designer (which is what D is) cum Lair cum Opium Den and I just hope we've time this weekend to work on opening up all the boxes and putting things together. As well as put up loads of amazing artwork. And then for me to put together the photos from Singapore, and all the other older photos. Sometimes I wish I could blog via telepathy! Have a glorious weekend xxx